Happy New Year!

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year from the Zickels! It’s been a crazy year for us here in the DC area, full of adventures and testaments to God’s faithfulness.  Brian and I started out the year with a few curveballs as we both lost our jobs within two months of each other. Thankfully, I was able to pick up “new” employment back with an old company that was in need of some direction. March was full of excitement with several friends coming to visit and the ever busy week of CPAC. We had a great time catching up with folks and playing tourists for a few days.

We also had the fantastic opportunity to go to Disneyworld with my side of the family and see my sister, Hannah, show off her mad cheerleading skills. Brian and I spent each day exploring a different park and riding every rollercoaster available.

Not long after our return from Florida, Brian and I packed up our little apartment and moved out to Reston to be with Brian’s mom, Bobbie. It’s been a blessing to have a home with a normal sized kitchen and free washing machines for the last eight months and Bobbie has been a great encouragement to both of us since we arrived. 

 

The arrival of summer allowed us to hit the road just before my return to Voice of Russia. Brian and I took a week to visit friends in North Carolina then head over to St. Louis, Nashville, and Chicago just because we could. We rode our bikes down music row in Nashville and made our way to the top of the gateway arch. I’ve attached a few photos here, but you check out the rest on Facebook.

               

 I was able to hit up New York for a conference before we took our second road trip down to New Orleans for a friend’s wedding. Brian has never been to The Big Easy, and I had always wanted to take him there. We spent three days in total and discovered some new favorite venues to add to the list of timeless classics before heading over to Kentucky to spend a rainy Fourth of July with my Dad and his family out in Lexington. We had a great time dodging the rain and squeezing in a few bonfires. We finished off the trip with a stop in Memphis for the best blues and ribs we’ve ever had.

                 

In August, we welcomed the first niece on the Brewster side to the family. Alex and his wife, Marley, delivered a little girl named Lucy. It seemed like the perfect gift in time for our second wedding anniversary. Brian and I spent a glorious weekend at the beach, reading and checking out our favorite restaurants before I flew down over to Seattle to check out the latest addition to the Brewster brood.  We even took a few extra vacation days just because we could! (gasp) It may not have been exactly what we planned, but I'm not sure we could have planned it better anyway.

 

Two weeks later, Brian’s birthday was spent fighting dragons and rescuing damsels at the Maryland Renaissance Festival and dinner at Medieval Times.  

The real highlight of the year for me, came in an unexpected business trip to Morocco. I spent a week traveling and trying new foods. While I had been there before, the extra days gave me an opportunity to really explore. 

Brian and I are wrapping up the year spending the holiday with visiting family. In just three days, Brian will start his new job as an office manager with Fairlington Presbyterian Church which will allow us to ride into work together (permanently, we hope). We will also be spending the New Year’s week with a new adventure of caring for a friend’s horse farm. We are hoping it’s a sign of exciting beginnings yet come. 

Happy New Year and God’s Blessings in 2014!

Brian and Kate

The Perfect Life

I recently discovered a new blog by a friend of a friend from college.

As I perused her impeccable photos and glorious hardwood floors I began to turn green with envy. Everything about this blog pointed out the beauty of Jamie's life. Her home was perfect, her daughter was perfect, her life was perfect.

I wanted that life. I wanted my life to be as easy and perfect as hers looked.

But then I read more. Jamie lost a precious life three years ago when she suffered a miscarriage. Her child never got to meet her big sister or get his picture taken by his talented mommy.

As I read her story, I realized that for all the complaints I have about my dirty carpets and tiny apartment, my early morning commute or my flabby thighs, I have never felt the loss of a child. Comparatively speaking, my life is one big bowl of rainbows and reasons to love unicorns.

Knowing the perfect life will never actually happen may be a disappointment, but that's where God comes in.  The real point is that it doesn't matter. It does not matter how early I get up in the morning or how depressing my efforts may seem some days. What matters is that I get out of bed in the morning and do my best at the things God has given to me to do. If I focus on the prize rather than the hurdles I have to jump to get it, the obstacles seem insignificant.

Thank you, Jamie, for sharing your heart with people who need it. Thank you for letting us witness the healing God has given you, knowing that we can have it too.

Ever since TIME magazine published an article about how great it is not to have kids, women on both sides of the fence have been chipping with their two cents (or twenty dollars, depending on the article).

One of these opeds I found particularly entertaining and borderline offensive. Jill Filipovic began her article attacking conservative women for having the audacity to think children are a blessing and joy to have in the home.

According to Filipovic, having children is selfish and mean because how dare you impose your religion and principles on others?!

At one point, the author even went so far as to compare childrearing with eating sushi or skydiving, just another adventure to try that may not work for everyone. While I agree not everyone is meant to be a parent, I would argue that the decision to raise a child moves beyond deciding where to have dinner on Saturday night. 

Then there's the argument that children don't belong in the world because potential parents might abuse them.

Romanticizing parenthood as beautiful and life-affirming obscures the reality that for many kids, a "parent" is someone who physically hurts them, belittles them, damages them or makes them feel small and worthless. Compulsory parenthood doesn't just limit those of us who are agnostic about having kids or don't want them at all; it breeds resentment and anger toward children, who are ultimately innocent in their parents' decision to bring them into the world.

Again, while I would never deny the existence of child abuse, that is no argument for parents who want children to not have them. While parenthood is often frustrating, painful, and requires sacrifice, it can still be "beautiful and life-affirming" at the same time. That's what parenthood is. It's hard, it sucks, and it's the most rewarding experience a person can have.

And by the way, I would be very curious to hear more about this "compulsory parenthood" that is being forced upon women like Jill. In my opinion, women in the United States are being pushed in the very opposite direction as we push for HPV vaccines on younger and younger girls and tell junior high students they don't need parental consent to get an abortion. 

On a side note, I have to ask: where are the men in these conversations? No one (on either side of the issue) has directly addressed the idea that the men in these relationships might have an opinion. Personally, my husband and I have made every decision of our marriage together, including the decision to put off having kids. 

To me, this is such a very vital part of the equation. Obviously, we women need our man's consent to carry his offspring, but more than that, we need a partner to share the load. 

No lies here. Kids are hard work. The long nights, the diapers, and the play dates all take their toll. At some point or another, you are guaranteed to look like a zombie with a killer hangover. This is where husbands are so useful. You made a human being together, so the responsibility of training up that being in the way he should go is yours together. Even just the responsibility of making sure Jr. lives through the terrible twos can be a nightmare, but at least you don't have to go it alone. 

Beyond the sanity of mommies, children need their fathers. Study after study has argued the importance of both parents in lives of their children. Kids with two parents inevitably do better in school than those with single moms and dads. Those same kids also miss out on important emotional and psychological opportunities. The instability and inconsistency that follows divorce or other instances of single parenthood can often result in trauma for children (especially younger kids). 

 This doesn't mean everyone should just stop having kids (like this guy), rather we should step up to the plate and take responsibility for well being and growth of our children. I don't have children right now, but I grew up in a family of seven, and I understand the importance of a stable environment. While many question my parents' choice to have so many children and there are days keeping them all in line is tough, I know my parents love us and consider us a huge blessing. 

Miss Filipovic may have been well intentioned in calling parents who choose to have large families selfish, but in my opinion, choosing to bring a life into the world and raise that child to adulthood is perhaps the least selfish thing a person can do. Parents are daily (and even hourly) laying down their lives for their children.

I would agree with Filipovic that "making choices that center on our own needs and desires isn't selfish. It's radical. It's transformational." ...............until you're about 18. 

Right about then, the world somehow ceases to revolve around what you want and starts telling you to grow up. If you're lucky, this process starts much sooner.

Miss Filipovic, I will not judge you for choosing to remain childless, especially here in America, that choice is up to you. But do me a favor and don't make the mistake of thinking everyone with more than one kid hates you for being different.
 

YouTube Friday!

Happy YouTube Friday! I present to you now the cutest little love story to take place on the New York subway.

And if you thought that was adorable, check out Disney's "Paperman". If you're anything like me or Hannah Wegmann, I guarantee you'll cry.

I hope you all have a wonderful weekend. Here in DC, we are  loving the fall weather!

"Don't you love New York in the fall? It makes me want to buy school supplies."

And so begins one of the most adorable rom-coms in the history or teary eyed women. The leaves are starting turn here in DC and the weather is definitely getting colder.

I actually pulled my sweaters from the back of the closet this morning and as usual couldn't decide what matched with my jeans (jeans!).

 I'm once again enjoying the seemingly eternal joy of pumpkin flavored everything and all the colors that go with changing seasons. Fall always reminds why I love Washington. It's the one place that genuinely delivers all four seasons.

I'm looking forward to spending my afternoons curled up with good books and mugs of tea. My years long knitting project has fallen woefully behind and I'm hoping to make some actual progress on said quilt before Christmas.

And the books, oh god, the books! Brian and I have started reading out loud and night, and let me tell you, it's wonderful. There is nothing better than a good book unless the man you love is reading it to you. If we ever get around to having kids, reading will be a regular part of the bedtime routine.

But as the summer winds down and I mourn the loss of my pool side lounger and the tan that came with it, I'm looking forward to warm cozy nights by the fireplace and the fragrant aroma of spicy baked goods coming from my kitchen.

It's YouTube Friday!

Walter White and Jessie Pinkman are back! Next week, we start the final eight episodes, and I am psyched! In the meantime, check out a very creative recap of previous seasons.

What Six Looks Like 

By: Jennifer Rowe Walters with the Huffington Post 

I am not really a major cryer. I mean, don't get me wrong, I cry -- when it's appropriate to do so. Funerals. The occasional wedding if it's particularly beautiful or meaningful. Schindler's List. Things that normal people cry at. I am definitely not an over-cryer. I don't cry at commercials or cheesy Hallmark movies or at the drop of a hat. And, when I do cry, there's usually a beginning and an end. I cry. I get it out. I stop. Normal crying. 

 

However, since I first started to understand the magnitude of what happened at Sandy Hook Elementary School on Friday morning, I have cried a lot. I cried when I heard the terrible news. I cried when I went to pick my son up early from school. I cried when I told my husband what had happened. I cried when I talked to my girlfriends about it. I cried at church when we prayed for each victim by name. Off and on for going on three days now, I have cried. And this is despite going out of my way to not watch anything about it on TV or read too much about it online. I'm actively trying to avoid it, but I still find myself crying more than usual.

I mentioned this to a friend last night and she said that she couldn't seem to stop crying either. When I asked her why she thought that was, her answer was, for me, a revelation. She said, "I think it's because we know what six looks like. We see it every day... in all its glory." And she was right. Because, you see, this friend and I both have a six-year-old child. I, a six-year-old son. She, a six-year-old daughter. Both are in first grade. Both, I imagine, so heart-breakingly similar to those 20 kids who were so brutally and senselessly killed on Friday morning. And we do, indeed, know what six looks like. We do see it every day. In all its glory. We see the good, the bad and the ugly. The beautiful and the infuriating. It's in our face. We live it and breathe it.

We know what six looks like. We know what it smells like. How it can go from the fresh scent of shampoo and soap to the musky aroma of "dirty child" in what seems like minutes. How it resists getting in the bathtub... and then resists getting out half an hour later. How sweet its hair and skin and clean jammies smell when it sits on your lap and asks you to read it a bedtime story. We know the unmistakeable fragrance of the occasional accident in the middle of the night caused by too much milk and no last-thing-before-bed visit to the toilet.

We know what six looks like. We know what it sounds like. How it cries and whines. How it sings and laughs. How clever it is and how much more clever it grows every day. How it sounds out words on signs as we drive past in the car and how happy it is when it gets them right. How annoying it sounds when it teases its little sister and how kind it sounds when it soothes her when she falls down and hurts herself. We know how lovely the words "Mommy" and "Daddy" and "I Love You" sound in its six-year-old voice.

We know what six looks like. We know how it tastes. How picky it is. How it thinks chicken nuggets or macaroni and cheese are gourmet foods. How much it loves candy and cookies. How it tolerates broccoli and carrots. How it absolutely abhors Brussels sprouts. How it thinks French fries are a vegetable. How it thinks chocolate milk was created by God himself. How it thinks pizza is its own food group. We know that six is happy when it finds "I love you!" written on a napkin in its lunch box at school.

We know what six looks like. We know how it feels. How big it's getting. How fast it outgrows its clothes and how it's no longer a baby, but not quite yet a big kid. We know the weight of six in our arms. How we can barely carry it anymore, but try anyway because we can't quite bring ourselves to accept the truth. We know how easily six gets its feelings hurt if someone says just the wrong thing or if this friend or that one doesn't want to play with it or it gets in trouble at school. We know the velvety softness of six's skin. We know the still-silkiness of its hair.

Yes, we know what six looks like. We know six's gap-toothed smile and its gangly arms and legs. We see how it jumps and dances. How it twirls and runs. We know how funny six is. How absolutely charming it can be. We know six's terrible jokes. We know how obsessed it is with "Minecraft." We know its crooked "S" and its backwards "3." We see how it teeters on the cusp of the world of books and all the joys of reading, but how it's not quite ready to fall in yet. We see how six can't decide if it wants us to stand beside it or not. We watch it take two steps towards independence and one step back towards us every day. We know how sturdy and strong six is... and yet how frail and fragile.

We know what six looks like. How beautiful it is. How precious. How brightly it shines with promise. How much it looks towards the future... toward 7,8,9... How much it looks like forever.

We know what six looks like and can only in our worst nightmares imagine how devastating its loss in this senseless and evil way would be. We can only barely imagine the wreckage and the despair and the utter hopelessness that would be left if six were brutally and suddenly taken from us. We know we couldn't bear life without it.

Yes, we know what six looks like. And we know that, to us -- like it must be for those other mothers and fathers in Connecticut -- six is the whole world.